The Arakhat
About "The Arakhat" is a short narrative about Saahn, the son of Samris, who was a close friend and priest of T'bal. Though not a devout follower of Kabal, he escaped Atu just prior to its destruction, and is thus considered to be one of the Akkabites. The Arakhat The boat lurched, groaning and splintering as another wave pounded into its starboard side. Moans of seasickness, terror and injury surged from the hold as the vessel was tipped nearly entirely on its port. Slowly and with a shudder that threatened to tear the ship apart at its joints, the Arakhat rocked back solidly onto its hull. For a moment there was balance, but it would be only minutes before they were tossed to their near-deaths again. As the wave hit, Saahn, son of Samris awoke with a start, torn from his sleep, the words which had just been pounding through his consciousness quickly tumbling away from the grasp of his memory. He braced himself before the less steady passengers as they tumbled around and into him, knuckles white as he grasped the overhead rope steadying him. After the Arakhat landed back on its belly, Saahn wiped the vomit from his eyes with a sleeve he had torn off another man’s shirt days prior, before his corpse was cast into the sea. Dying men had no need for such comforts. He had been asleep only momentarily. On the Arakhat, sleep came in precious minutes, interrupted by the sudden struggle of finding your balance and wrestling out from beneath peoples’ feet. Saahn had discovered that after a time one could learn to sleep standing up, clutching the ropes overhead for support so should the ship tumble, you were not immediately buried by a surge of bodies falling in your direction. Saahn had been finding himself hunting for sleep, grasping for each moment like a hunger-crazed man grasps for fish in a stream. He opened his eyes and paused. For a moment he was the only one standing, head high above the squirming mass of bodies and limbs. He drew in a good long look at the tortured faces. The irony of the moment was not lost on him: one of the Disowned, a man disgraced into the lowest caste in Atu society, standing tall above the Akkabite “brothers”. These were men and women who had spat in his face for years before the cataclysm, after he was thrown out with only the clothes on his back by his father. Saahn was never a follower of Kabal, not like his father was. T’bal, the man who prophesied the approaching cataclysm many seasons ago, told the Atutu that they would face one more great test of devotion. Leaving your loved ones and family behind is an impossible thing to ask, he said, but your reward would be your lives. Saahn had chosen to stay behind, instead of throwing his life away on the empty words of an absent god. Samris would not have one of his sons disgrace him, and so cast Saahn out of his household. It was only seconds before he snapped out of the moment, having drunk his fill. He snapped his eyes shut and slipped into a meditative state, drowning out his surroundings. First the moans and screams faded, then the stench of vomit and excrement, then the awareness of his own limbs. He quickly reached a familiar place. The darkness behind his eyelids twisted into a spiral of blue and green. Saahn could feel his heart speed up in anticipation, before that awareness fled from him too. The son of Samris had found something greater in his search for sleep. He stood on a rocky shore, rain pouring through his hair and his soaking clothes. A bright flash of lightning, followed immediately by the crack of thunder boomed through his chest. Far across the sea, he spied a number of boats, bucking helplessly through the onslaught of the sea. On one of them he saw himself. "We await the children of the sun," a weak voice called from behind him. "Children of the sun?" As Saahn spoke, the heavens opened from above him, illuminating the stones he stood on. The rain came to a halt and the waves calmed before him. Saahn felt compelled to turn around. To his surprise, three men stood behind him, one dark-skinned in tribal clothing. The second was similarly dark-skinned, but wore more modern clothing, a tunic and sandals strapped high to the knees. The third was lighter-skinned elderly man, blind and deaf, but not without understanding. All three looked to the heavens, shielding their eyes from the rays penetrating the sky. "I am no child of the sun," Saahn roared, momentarily taken back by his own fury. "What comes is a ship of snakes and liars! They bring darkness, not the light!" As Saahn uttered his words, the sunlight piercing the sky was swallowed up by the clouds again. A flash of light flooded his vision again and he saw the three men’s faces, eyes now leveled towards him, looks of fear and pain and betrayal on their faces. Thunder rolled nearby. Saahn moved to raise an arm towards the men. "Run," he tried to shout, for he could feel the waters swelling behind him, threatening to engulf the shore. He tried to scream the words and push the men into action, but out of his mouth poured vipers and as he raised his arm, he realized that he was the wind, thrusting the sea up onto the shore. The men were now looking past him, expressions of horror on their faces. He could not save them. The boat twisted and shuddered again as another wave slammed into its hull. A loud groan sounded, followed by a deafening crack. Saahn regained his grasp on reality to the sound of shrieks and splintering wood. He whipped his head around to see what doom had befallen the Arakhat, and at once saw the gushing of seawater from across the hold. Pandemonium set in as more of the Akkabites realized their fate. Immediately fights broke out as the passengers scrambled to reach the ladder on to the deck. Saahn, overcome by a sudden immense desire to live, began to shout and scream. He pushed and shoved and hit and bit and scratched his way to the ladder. Blows glanced off his flesh as others did the same, one man tearing a sleeve from his shirt, another stealing a fistful of his hair. Just as he grasped one of the rungs, the boat began its nosedive into the abyss. Saahn summoned the last of his might and pulled himself up from the hold just in time to be flung from the deck, striking something hard in the water. Saahn was suddenly spinning, his vision dark. He realized he could no longer hear the screams of the Akkabites, nor the cracks of thunder, nor the crashing waves. He inhaled, and filling his lungs was the sweet scent of tranquility. Colors began to bloom before him. He offered a prayer to the god of dreams, and sank into oblivion.